


I Ain't No Damsel in Distress

by Saint_Rick_The_Dick



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/F, Humor, Romance, Violence, spoilers for borderlands 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-03 17:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21183023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Rick_The_Dick/pseuds/Saint_Rick_The_Dick
Summary: This fic was born of a question I received on AO3. What would happen if Moze went missing? Each chapter is written from the perspective of a different Vault Hunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Angst. Violence.

_ECHO Log 983.K25 [Amara]:**  
**_

_It’s been six, no seven, days and still nothing. I’ve been all over The Droughts. Everywhere from Varkid Valley to the Raider’s Drydock, even the Pit of Fools. There’s no trace of Moze or Iron Bear, not so much as a scrap of tritanium. Several times a day, I open the map on my ECHO hoping to see her location triangulated nearby. I’m always disappointed. _

_I have to go back to Sanctuary for supplies. Afterwards, I’ll resume my search in Covenant Pass._

_[Amara sighs]_

_Moze, if you can hear me, I’m looking for you. I won’t give up until I find you. I promise. _

_————–_

It’s always the smell that hits her first: recycled air, burnt coffee, and engine oil combined with the humid musk of several living bodies existing within a single, confined space. Amara declines to announce her return to Sanctuary, heads straight to Marcus where she swaps cash for guns and ammo. Uninterested in conversation, she manages to avoid it entirely until she arrives at her private quarters. 

There, Zane waits, leaning against the edge of the table in the middle of her room. He doesn’t ask the obvious question, the answer plainly writ on the Siren’s face. Instead, he delivers his message matter of fact. 

“Lilith’s lookin’ for ya.”

Silence. Half convinced Amara will refuse, he’s prepared to argue his point, but then - 

“Fine.”

_————–_

There’s the familiar whoosh of the automatic door, and Amara steps onto the bridge, Zane trailing behind. Lilith is there along with FL4K. They’re huddled around the Hyperspace Terminal studying a large, holographic map of Pandora - strategizing, no doubt - but at the sound of footsteps they fall quiet and turn in tandem. An uncomfortable stillness settles over the group, and Amara knows she was its harbinger.

It’s Lilith who finally states what they can all observe. “Nothing, then." 

"No.”

Tilting her head, she notes the new gun at Amara’s side, the fresh ammo. “Heading back already?" 

"Assuming we’re done here, yes.” How strange it is to hear herself sound so flat, when inside she’s churning fury and spitting fire. Her anger simmers, temporarily placated by the knowledge those here care for Moze, too, but she’s itching to continue her search. 

Despite the gnawing sense of haste, Amara can tell something’s left unsaid. It hangs in the silence between the two women; a ghost neither wish to acknowledge.

Coming to a decision, Lilith sighs. “Amara, look. I know you want to find Moze - we _all _do - but you’ve been out there a week already.”

What? _This_ is why Lilith wanted to see her? So she can be lectured? Treated like an unruly child in need of correction? Her lips curl down in a frown, and it takes all of Amara’s considerable strength of will not to snarl in response.

“With all due respect, _Commander _\- “ but Amara is cut off.

“She’s right, lass.” Zane’s circled around to join the others. “You haven’t slept in a real bed or had a proper meal in at least a week. Yer exhausted, and runnin’ yerself down won’t help ya find Moze any faster.”

Wait. They can’t possibly… Amara swallows back the lump in her throat, gives life to what no one else will admit. “You think she’s dead.”

The shared glances are enough to confirm her suspicions. Still, Lilith attempts to remain positive. “We can’t know that for sure, not ‘til we find something. But, the longer she’s missing…”

There’s no need to finish the sentence. 

Willing away self-doubt, crushing indecision, these have always been the hallmarks of Amara’s existence. But in this moment, she can feel the insidious seeds of uncertainty burst forth and threaten to bloom. She buries them, refusing to allow disbelief to take hold and cloud her judgement. 

The Siren won’t be swayed from her path. “I don’t need your concern. I’ll be back in a few - “

“Heeeey, there Vault Thieves!” That voice! Instantly, everyone turns to watch the unmistakable image of Tyreen Calypso appear across Sanctuary’s ECHO Net. “This is God Queen Tyreen comin’ at ya LIVE and in daaaaazling technicolor! Oh, and this time it’s _extra _awesome! ‘Cause we’re here with a special message just for _you_… AMARA.”

When she hears her name, a host of alarms go off in her mind. Part of Amara always knew this was possible, but she’d hoped - prayed - that part was wrong. 

Tyreen’s jeering smile is here to tell her otherwise. “You know, we’ve been hearing from our followers that you’re just _tearin’ it up_ down here on Pandora. Really givin’ everyone a hard time with the ol’ death and destruction bit. So, my bro and I started thinkin…”

The camera pulls back to include Troy; he towers over his sister, arms crossed. “We did, we did. We thought that maaaaybe you’re going on this rampage ‘cause you’ve been _lookin’ _for something!” 

“Can’t be the key fragment - been there, done that, got the powers to prove it. So, what is it? What is just sooooo important to the Tiger of Partali that she’s gotta punch her way through every poor schmuck and shitkicker this side of the Great Vault?”

“I think… Tyreen, I think I got it! I know what it is!” Troy makes a show of whispering in his sister’s ear. Tyreen pretends to listen, her expression sliding from exaggerated contemplation to mock surprise. 

“Really?! _That’s_ why? Well, then why don’t we find out! Please, maestro, show us what’s behind doooor number one!”

The shot zooms wide, pans over to a rickety wooden platform where, with her wrists and ankles bound by heavy chain, stands Moze. She’s surrounded by a collection of gibbering Psychos, all intent on enthusiastically celebrating her capture.

Distantly, Amara hears the collective outrage from those around her, but she ignores it. Focus. She _must _focus. How much time does she have? She can’t be sure, so she drinks in every detail. The Gunner is in one piece, appears relatively unharmed. Her helmet is gone, as is her signature leather jacket and Iron Bear’s digistruct pack. Stripped of armor and weapons, Moze is left with only the simple clothing underneath. And while she looks tired, dirty, disheveled, she maintains her defiant posture and military grade scowl. 

“That’s right, biiiiitch!” Dancing back into view, Tyreen makes an obscene gesture. _“We’ve_ got your bear cub. And if you want - “

But Moze interrupts, her voice carrying over Tyreen and the chaotic noise of the COV fanatics. “Amara! It’s a _trap!_ Don’t do it! Don’t come for - _Oof!”_ Silenced by a punch to the gut, the Gunner doubles over, falls to her knees. 

_“COWARDS!”_ Amara’s scream is feral, instinctive. Fists bunched uselessly at her sides, she’s entirely helpless to stop the sickening spectacle unfolding before her. It’s not until much later, once she’s gathered her wits, that she even notices the blood on her palm where her nails pierced the skin.

There’s an appreciative roar from the cult members when Moze goes down, and Tyreen cackles. “Ha! Wow, _that _looked painful. Aaaaanyway, hope you plan on coming by to take her off our hands pretty soon or uh, she won’t have any! Hands, that is. Later, Superfan!” 

And with that, the video cuts out.

Immediately, the bridge explodes with sound and movement. Lilith is barking orders for someone, _anyone,_ to get a location on that signal feed. At the Hyperspace Terminal, Zane is with FL4K pulling up every known COV hideout on Pandora big enough to hold Moze, the Calypsos and a large horde of followers. Amara’s first instinct is to check her ECHO and -

It’s finally there. After days of nothing, the map shows the Gunner smack dab in the middle of the Holy Broadcast Center in Ascension Bluff. 

“I know where she is!” 

The exclamation is followed by a chorus of confused voices. Amara heads to the Terminal, pulls up the HBC, highlights the tiny triangle that represents Moze. “Believe me when I say that was not there before.” 

Her previous inclination to hurry is now an insatiable need. Does she have everything? Guns, ammo, grenades, cash. Those are the essentials, anyway, the rest she can scrape together once she’s back on the planet. Feet carrying her across the bridge and up the stairs, she’s practically through the door when -

“Amara, wait! _Wait!”_ And as much as she wants to do the opposite, something in Lilith’s tone gives her pause. 

“What?”

“Moze is right; this _is_ a trap. Why else would they let you sweat it out for a week only to tell you they have Moze in the HBC? Why not just kill her and parade the corpse around like they do whenever anyone else gets in their way?” Lilith points at Amara’s glowing tattoos. “Tyreen wants your powers. Kidnapping Moze means you’ll come to them, and that means one less Siren they gotta chase down.”

FL4K glances between the two women, their gaze eventually settling on Amara. “I concur with this theory. Angry humans don’t think rationally, and irrational people can be manipulated. They’ve been manipulating you the entire time.”

Throughout the exchange, Amara can feel the minutes slipping by. Her frustration is written in the lines of her face, the way she squares her shoulders. “Yeah, _and_? You would have me do what? Nothing? I’m not just going to leave her there! You can come with me or not, I don’t care, but I’m going after her.” 

Zane is already at Amara’s side. He rolls open the chamber of his pistol, then snaps it closed with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t be daft, lass. Course we’re goin’ with ya. Just gotta pay a visit to me ol’ pal Marcus first.”

“By attacking a member of the pack, they have attacked us all.” The AI ascends the stairs, nods in Amara’s direction. “I, too, will join you, and look forward to the hunt ahead.”

Surveying the three Vault Hunters, Lilith hums her approval. “Good. It’s better if you go together. Safer. Now, do me a favor. Before you leave, stop by and see Tannis. She’s got something I think you’re gonna need.” Turning back to the Hyperspace Terminal, she pauses a moment, then calls to the Siren, “And Amara… Go get ‘em, Tiger.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Angst. Violence. Spoilers for Borderlands 3.

_ECHO Log 417.B09 [Moze]:_

_This mission was tits up from the get-go, but I’m gonna try and salvage what I can. Whoever listens to these things, do yourself a favor and pass on any opportunities to run errands for Claptrap. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Trust me._

_It wouldn’t be so bad if these COV dickweeds weren’t following me around like a pack of fresh Vladof recruits. It’s… kinda creepy. They don’t attack, and when I go after them they scream and run away. Whole thing’s weird. _

_Whatever. I don’t have time to play bullet tag with a bunch of rakkshit crazy fucks. According to the parts list, I’m almost done. Then I’ll head ho - uh - back to Sanctuary._

_Alright. Had enough of talking to myself. Moze out._

—————

Throughout her military career, certain truths always remain constant. One is that you can count on greenies losing their shit after that first real taste of combat. Two is some macho asshole will approach Moze under the assumption she’s interested in what’s in his pants (hint: she’s not). Three, and arguably the most important, is you can’t apply rational tactics to irrational enemies. 

It’s the latter that is her downfall.

Her first inkling that something is decidedly not OK comes while she’s ripping the guts from a dead Claptrap wedged beneath the wheel-less, burned out husk of an overturned Technical. From the left, an unseen member of her newly acquired Psycho fanclub hollers, “The God Queen lives!” but Moze ignores him. She’s accustomed to their specific brand of word salad and knows better than to pay it much attention. Until…

“Behold, God Queen! I cut off my nipples in devotion to you!”

Well that seems unnecessary, but hang on is he saying… 

“The God Queen Tyreen is here to bless our eye holes with her glorious butt handles!”

Even for a Psycho that was surprisingly coherent. Moze immediately drops the parts, reaches for her shotgun, thinks better of it and decides to summon Iron Bear instead. If that crazy Calypso bitch really _is _here then Moze’ll need all the firepower - 

The digistruct responder is in her hand, thumb on the button, when her feet lose contact with the ground. She tries to yell, twist away, but her body refuses to obey. Unable to move, Moze floats higher and higher, the world taking on a familiar purple hue. There’s no room for panic, so she forces herself to _think. _What is this? She’s seen this before, but where? _Where?!_ Finally, understanding blooms: she’s _phaselocked._ This is the work of a Siren. Lilith is on Sanctuary, Amara, too. Maya is dead, her powers stolen by… Troy. Troy Calypso.

_Fuck!_

Strolling into view, Troy offers a cheery hello to the suspended Gunner. “I know what you’re thinking! How did they get a pack of drooling morons to perform a recon job without screwing up the whole thing.”

His sister follows behind, said pack of drooling morons falling over themselves in an attempt to gain her recognition. One clings to her ankle, begging for attention. She kicks at their face, and they scurry off with a howl of thanks. “Ugh, supplication is just so… Gross.”

“Hey now, those supplicants came in pretty damn handy this time.” 

But uninterested, Tyreen waves away the observation. “Yeah, yeah. Useful idiots. We need to get our new BFF back to the Center before the turd farmers in the stars figure out what’s goin’ on. How much longer can you hold her?”

Still hanging in mid-air, Moze’s mind whirs. They’re taking her? The Calypsos made it abundantly clear they want little more than to crush the Crimson Raiders and all who associate with them. Why not just kill her now to avoid the potential of coming face to face with the others? Unless, the plan is to turn her execution into a public spectacle for the benefit of their bloodthirsty followers…

_Double_ fuck.

“Don’t worry about that, I got her.” Troy nods at Tyreen. “Let’s do this.”

—————

Digital reconstruction via the Fast Travel System is one thing, but Siren teleportation is an entirely different beast. When she lands in the HBC, Moze is disoriented, half-blind. She feels a yank on her arm, another on her leg. Her guns and helmet disappear, and now someone’s trying to rip Iron Bear’s digistruct pack from her back. That spurs her to action and she snarls, throws a punch. There’s a loud crunch, a yelp of surprise as her fist connects, but then she’s kicked in the calf. When the muscle seizes, the pain is white hot and she screams, falls to one knee. 

“Get her ECHO!” The voice of Tyreen caries over the din and chaos. “And don’t beat her up too bad. We need that pretty little face to be recognizable for the broadcast.”

That’s the last thing Moze registers before she’s struck in the head, the thunk of the blow still echoing in her ears when the world goes black. 

—————

When you’re unconscious time is a nebulous concept, so as Moze comes to she’s unsure if it’s been hours or days. What she can immediately discern is she’s trapped in a sparse cell with no windows and one entrance. She aches in various places, and after assessing the damage (there’s a decent sized lump on her head, a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious) she checks her pockets. As suspected, the COV goons were thorough: everything’s gone.

“Figures.”

With nothing else to do, she carefully inspects her surroundings. An old mattress on the floor and a grimy toilet in the corner make up the entirety of the furniture. She can put her hands and arms through the bars at the front of the cell, even touch the lock on the outside, but with no tools at her disposal there’s little hope of a prison break. Leaning against the far wall, she slides down, rests her elbows on her knees, takes a deep breath and tells herself to think.

How long has it been? She was on Pandora for over half a day before her capture. Assuming she was out long enough, that would put her absence at the twenty four hour mark or beyond. Someone should notice she’s missing within the next twelve. They’ll try to reach her comms first, and when that fails, a team will be sent to investigate. Now, she just has to wait.

All those years in the Vladof military only to end up as the POW of an insane death cult. The irony isn’t lost on her and Moze chuckles, but her bitter musings are interrupted when a Tink slinks into view. He stands on the other side of the bars, something clutched in his hands. Unable to determine what it is, Moze stays put, fixes the little man with her best scowl. Neither of them move. 

Silence hangs, heavy and awkward, until the Gunner can take no more of this amateur staring contest and snaps, “What the hell do you want!?" 

And that seems to do the trick. With a squawk, the puny Psycho chucks whatever it is in her direction. It bounce off the bars with a clatter, and before Moze can get to her feet he’s already gone. On the ground, she finds a half empty box of Splodeos and a full canteen. She pulls them into the cell with a sigh. At least they don’t plan to let her starve. 

—————

It’s days later, or what Moze interprets as days, when Troy Calypso pays her a visit. He stands outside her cell, holds up Iron Bear’s digistruct responder. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, Moze pointedly ignores him; she knows why he’s here. 

"Hey, Vault Thief,” he mocks through the bars. “You’re mech’s a busted up piece of shit.”

But she just scoffs at the insult. "Lemme guess, he won’t so much as fart out a single bullet for you?" 

The look on Troy’s face is confirmation enough, and Moze laughs; it’s a dark, derisive sound. “Iron Bear only works for _me._ I made sure of that years ago.”

Though it pains her, she’d rather see her precious Iron Bear ripped limb from limb or converted to scrap than give these COV fucks access to his controls. 

Still, Troy is undeterred, and he tosses the responder in the air, catches it, repeats the motion. “You know, I could cut off a few of your fingers. Maybe a whole hand. One of the two should be enough to make the big bastard move, right?” 

”_Please.“ _Moze rolls her eyes. "I know an empty threat when I hear one. You won’t touch me because your crazy bitch of a sister told you not to.” _For whatever reason _is the part she leaves out. 

She can tell he wants to bite back, she hopes he does, if for no other reason than to break up the monotony of her imprisonment. But instead, he does something unexpected: he smirks. “You haven’t figured it out yet. Hm. That’s OK. You will. Later, Superfan.”

No stranger to psychological warfare, Moze wills her outward appearance to remain still and calm until Troy is gone. Internally, however, she’s frantically attempting to put together a puzzle where half the pieces are missing. Underestimating this happy group of assholes landed her here in the first place, and she’ll be damned if she makes that mistake twice. 

All along, she assumed she was to be sacrificed on the altar of public execution, but she’s been here for days and still they let her live, even going so far as to keep her fed and watered. Why? The Calypsos have to be aware that the longer they hold her, the higher the likelihood the Raiders will find her. Already, she knows Amara must be - 

Somewhere in her mind, the last tumbler falls into place, and with it a collection of memories rush in: Tyreen siphoning Lilith’s powers, Troy reducing Maya to ash. Moze has to catch her breath as she realizes this was never about her. This was always about the Sirens. A Siren. 

_Her_ Siren.

_Amara._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Angst. Humor
> 
> This chapter is subtitled: Uncle Zane does Mr. Chew a heckin’ concern. Cause let’s be real, skags are just Pandora’s version of doggos.

_ECHO Log 610.M38 [FL4K]**  
**_

_Per Commander Lilith's instructions, my fellow Vault Hunters and I paid a visit to Dr. Patricia Tannis. There, she presented us with a handheld device she referred to as a Dampener. It is intended to function as a counterpoint to Eridium’s amplifying abilities, thus diminishing a Siren’s powers. Tannis was quick to inform us that it is only a prototype, implying a high probability of failure. However, neither Zane nor Amara seemed concerned. _

_Now that we are on Pandora, I suggested we test the device to ensure its efficacy. Amara agreed, as she is aware it will negatively impact her abilities as well. When I expressed reservations regarding the potential loss in the upcoming battle, she flexed and said “Don’t worry. I earned these guns the hard way.” _

_I am unsure what biceps have in common with firearms, but Amara has proven herself capable many times. Therefore, I remain confident in her self-assessment._

—————–

Even with decades of interaction, FL4K still finds humans to be the most confusing of all species. People are irrational, unpredictable, and that has made it challenging to understand them and integrate into their societies. One thing FL4K does comprehend, however, is the concept of bonding. They liken it to the closeness shared with their beasts. The pack has a special connection, and if it is threatened, FL4K will do everything possible to eliminate said threat. 

With one hand, the Beastmaster adjusts Mr. Chew’s bandanna, pats the skag on the back. The animal responds by leaning into the touch, drool dripping from his partially open jaws. Turning their single, green eye towards Amara, FL4K watches the Siren pace, restless. She is indeed a tiger, one desperate to be released from her cage, but first, there is work to be done.

Arms crossed over her chest, Amara stops against the barren backdrop of the Pandoran landscape, nods to Zane. “Ok, turn it on.”

It takes a moment of fiddling and a few mumbled curses, but he finds the switch, flicks it, and places the Dampener on a nearby rock.

Tannis wasn’t entirely forthcoming regarding the functionality of her prototype, using words like ‘hypothesize’ and ‘in theory.’ Still, previous experiences with the scientist have shown her to be perfectly competent, meaning it would be more surprising if the device _didn’t _work as intended. Plus, FL4K has to admit they’re just plain curious. The available data on Sirens is woefully inadequate, in part because so much of the lore is shrouded in mystery. Tyreen’s phaseleach has caused its fair share of chaos for the Crimson Raiders, and if this invention is effective, it could turn the tide in the war against the COV.

Though the device has been active for less than a minute, FL4K witnesses Amara’s tattoos grow dimmer. “Hm. The physical impact is noticeable.”

“It is,” Amara agrees, critically inspecting her arms. “I can feel it, too. I’m going to try to Phasetrance. See what happens.”

Despite the concentration writ on her face - her furrowed brow and set jaw - Amara can do no more than summon her signature ethereal arms for a few seconds. They flicker in and out: light-bulbs connected to an inconsistent power source. 

Looking to her fellow Vault Hunters, she smiles, relieved. “It works. It’s unpleasant, but it works.” 

“Aye, that’s all well and good.” Zane motions towards the small, glowing piece of machinery. “But with that lil’ bugger going strong, how’re you gonna take out The Calypsos? Run in there and pummel ‘em to death with yer fists?”

The Siren doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“That’s mighty presumptuous of ya, lass.”

But FL4K correctly interprets the Operative’s concern. “You’d prefer we have a solid plan in place prior to the attack.”

“I would!” Zane reaches for the device, but then stops halfway, straightens up. He rolls his shoulders back, plants his feet. “Amara, hit me.”

“Uhh - I’m sorry. _What?_” Her confusion would be funny if it weren’t sincere.

“Ya heard. _Hit me_.” 

“You’re right, I did hear you. I just don’t understand.”

At this point, FL4K feels the need to interrupt. “While I appreciate your intentions, this is not a wise course of action.”

“Yeah, I’m with the robot here.” Tilting her head in FL4K’s direction, Amara insists. “You don’t want me to hit you.”

However, Zane won’t be deterred.“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, cause_ I do_.”

Chalking it up to another example of odd human behavior, FL4K decides it’s best if they simply allow this situation to play out. They turn their attention back to Mr. Chew, coo at him in their low, robotic voice. The skag wags his backside when FL4K reaches into their pack to retrieve a pink, plastic food bowl. 

They place it on the ground, hear Amara relent - “Fine! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!“ - but they’re more concerned with whether they have enough rakk meat. If not, they can always go hunting. There’s certainly no shortage of the flying bastards, it would just be more convenient if they didn’t have to leave - 

There’s the loud, unmistakable slap of a fist impacting flesh, an _"Eurgh!”_ of surprise, followed by the thud of a limp body hitting the earth. Now on alert, the skag turns, and, seeing Zane unconscious, rushes to investigate. FL4K follows, leans over the Operative while Mr. Chew whines and snuffles at his slack face. 

FL4K pats the beast, assures him Zane is just fine, then looks back at Amara. “You went easy on him." 

"He’s an old man!” She shrugs, apologetic yet amused. “I didn’t want to break him." 

They nod in agreement, come to their full height. Amara isn’t short, but the AI still towers over her. “While that exchange was humorous, Zane’s apprehension is warranted.”

Some aspects of body language are lost on FL4K, but they’ve become rather adept at deciphering when a person is in mental distress. Right now, with her mouth turned down and fists clenched at her sides, Amara reads as troubled. 

“I know. I’m worried, too.” She collects the Dampener, switches it off. It fits in the satchel slung low on her hip, and she tucks it there for safekeeping. “I do have a plan, it’d be foolish not to. Risking my own life is one thing, but this isn’t just about me.”

She leaves the rest unspoken, but it is enough; FL4K understands. To them, Moze and Amara are bonded. It’s evident in the way the pair choose to occupy each other’s space, or openly share affection. Human concerns are hardly of interest to the awakened AI, but they know the pain associated with the unexpected loss of a beloved pack mate.

Whatever vague, comforting platitude the Beastmaster could hope to summon is intercepted by a gurgle coming from Zane’s direction. “Euughh.. Hh - how long was I out?” 

FL4K and Amara respond in unison. “A few minutes." 

“Goooood. Good. Excellent. _Ooh_, me _back_ \- “ Zane sits up, stops mid-complaint. His fingers slide through a slick spot on his cheek, and he turns to the right. Finding himself inches from the spit soaked mug of a panting Mr. Chew, he reaches out, affectionately rubs the skag along its side. “Ah, yer a goodun. Worried about yer ol’ Uncle Zane, were ya?”

“No.” FL4K deadpans. “He was trying to decide where to take his first bite.”

At that, Amara laughs, bright and genuine. It’s the first time they’ve heard it since this mess began, and if FL4K could, they’d smile at the sound. 

“Wha - was that a joke? That was a_ joke_! Yer joking.” Zane’s false outrage only causes her to laugh harder. 

With a groan, the Operative gets to his feet, makes a show of cracking his spine. “You owe me a drink after that one, lass. Now, tell me true. How’s this thing gonna go down?" 

"Alright,” Amara’s tone and demeanor instantly shift. Once again, she’s the Tiger, ready and eager to hunt. “Here’s the plan…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Angst. Action/Adventure. Humor. Romance.

_ECHO Log 431.G88 [Zane]**  
**_

_Ughh… My jaw still hurts from that punch. Pretty sure Amara knocked a tooth loose. Jaysus, that woman hits hard._

_Aaaanyway, where was I goin’ with this? Oh yeah. We’re headin’ in to the HBC at 0600 tomorrow. Amara’s gonna keep our new toy in her back pocket, turn it on when she sees Tweedledee and Tweedledum, then smack ‘em till they cry uncle. Which should take all of, what, twenty seconds? Meanwhile, she wants me and FL4K to split up, go searchin’ for her girl. _

_Not that she called Moze ‘her girl,’ but c’mon, you know she is._

_If all goes well, we’ll be back on Sanctuary in time for supper! Or what passes for supper ‘round these parts. _

_Which reminds me, can someone put in my usual order with Dynasty Diner? I’ll pay you back!_

—————

If you ask Zane how he’ll finally meet his end, the answer might be something like a massive heart attack while in the midst of a twenty-seven species orgy. Or, choking on expensive scotch during a drinking contest with his Digiclone. Maybe yee-hawing his way towards a desolate planet on the back of a twelve ton mega-explosive? The possibilities are endless! What is absolutely not on that list is ‘rocks fall and everyone dies, including him.’

Even before he and his fellow Vault Hunters came charging in, guns blazing, parts of the HBC were strung together with little more than rusted-out rebar and a healthy dose of optimism. Now, The Center looks like a low budget demolition crew went cukoo with a collection of C4. It’s in shambles, various sections of the roof caved in thanks to FL4K, a Torgue grenade mod, and a helluva throwing arm. Stuck in one of the newly formed piles of rubble, Zane finds himself surrounded, the threat of bandits less concerning than the potential for the whole damn place to come crashing down on his head.

“Fecking shitestains, all of ye!” Releasing a hail of gunfire, he’s unsure if he’s cursing his friends, the Psychos, or the building intent on removing his brains via concrete pylon. 

Another slew of bullets whiz by, embed in the wall. Flinching away from the spray, he makes a second, third and fourth attempt to swap places with his Digiclone, but the damn responder just won’t work. Could he chuck a grenade? Sure. But given his precarious position, he’s likely to take out himself along with the baddies. Few options are left, so Zane engages the comms in the off chance someone is nearby.

“Hey! If either are you are close, I could use some help! I’m caught between a rock and a hard place! Literally!” 

But he’s gifted radio silence.

Return fire is met with more bullets, more shouting, and now Zane has to brush dirt and chips of concrete from his hair. Did his message even go through? Would be his luck that the ECHO Net shits the bed the same day his Digiclone takes an unscheduled vacation. He tries again.

“Yoohoo! Anyone? _Anyone at all?!_” 

Nothing.

_Well, fuck._

Clone’s out of the equation and grenades are too risky. Time to get creative. He could attempt to make a run for it, hope his shield holds till he can find suitable cover. Maybe he’ll get lucky and one of those crazy arseholes will blow themselves sky high, remove a few of their buddies in the process. Can’t count on that, though, so he needs to -

Among the chorus of nonsense and chaos, Zane hears a familiar voice. It’s followed by the rapid rat-tat-tat-tat of an SMG, and the screams of several Psychos. He can make out the usual COV gibberish - babble about God Queen Tyreen and the Great Vault - but that’s it. Peeking from behind the debris, he takes aim, shoots one, two, three of those bandit bastards in the back of the head. Still unable to see his liberator, he retreats to cover to await another opportunity. FL4K, it must be FL4K. Amara’s ethereal arms would surely be visible in this mess. 

There’s an additional barrage, one final, piercing shriek and then silence. Assuming it’s safe, the Operative unfolds to his full height, pats the dust from his legs, climbs over the wreckage. 

“Hoooly_ shite _am I glad to see you, Beastboy. Thought I was - “

He looks up, and the words catch in his throat.

She’s dirty, sweaty, her hair and clothes a mess of grease and grime, yet Zane’s never been more pleased or relieved in his life to set eyes on the five foot nothing Gunner. 

“Hey!” Moze plants her free hand on one narrow hip, tilts her head to the side and grins. “I thought _you _were supposed to rescue _me?”_

_“Moze!”_

Laughing, they meet in the middle of the wreckage. Zane can’t help it; he hugs her, lifting her from the ground in the process. Surprisingly, she endures the affection until he sees fit to put her down. Even then, he keeps his hands firmly planted on her shoulders, afraid she’ll disappear the moment he lets go.

The list of questions is endless. “What happened? Where’ve they been keepin’ you? Where did you find a_ gun? _How did you get_ here?!”_

“That is a very long and shitty story.” She smiles and shakes her head. “For now, I’ll just say this place has some really… _Unique _plumbing.”

He nods, knowingly. “Ya found a pistol in the crapper. Ahh, it doesn’t matter. I’m so happy I could kiss ya! But that’s not my job. C’mon! We gotta find the others. Amara’s gonna - “ 

But at Amara’s name, the Gunner’s face instantly falls and she interrupts. “Wait, Amara’s here? Dammit, she_ can’t _be here! Tyreen and Troy are going to take her powers, they’re going to kill her, we have to - !”

“Wooah, woah. Slow down, lass. We got yer message loud and clear. Don’t worry, we came prepared.” He winks. “We wouldn’t let anything happen to yer girl.”

Somehow, they manage the trek through the rest of the HBC without interruption. There’s a myriad of dead bodies strewn about, plenty of empty shell casings, random bits of detritus and refuse, but living things are in scarce supply. For Zane, this raises a whole whole host of red flags.

“Is it just me, or did it get _reeeeal _quiet?” 

Scanning their surroundings, Moze nods. “Yeah, I don’t like it. Fuck, I wish I had Iron Bear. I feel naked without him.”

Aware of how much the mech means to her, Zane offers reassurance. “We’ll get him back for ya.That’s a promise.”

Satisfied, she smiles, opens her mouth to respond, but whatever she was going to say is lost in a gasp of surprise. 

_“Amara!” _Dropping her weapon, Moze sprints towards the Siren who calls her name in return.

The pair collide, and Amara doesn’t hesitate, grabs Moze beneath the thighs to lift her. Moze wraps her legs around Amara’s waist, laughter bubbling up between them in small bursts of pure joy as they kiss. Their happiness is beautiful, infectious, and Zane’s smiling when FL4K and Mr. Chew come over to join him.

“Ahh, true love. If only we could all be so lucky.” Suddenly, he remembers something. “Wait, where the hell are the twins?”

“Unclear. This is all we found.” They hold up an ECHO log, the COV logo scrawled across the front in blood red ink. 

Zane grabs it, turns it over to inspect the other side, but it’s blank. “You’ve gotta be_ shittin’_ me. Those eejits put us through all that trouble for _this?!”_

The AI does something decidedly human: they shrug. “I imagine we need to listen to it in order to determine their reasoning.”

With a sigh, Zane agrees. “Aye, we’ll get ‘round to it. Once we’re on Sanctuary, and those two have had their fill of sucking face.”

In the distance, the women are still engrossed with each other, the world around them temporarily forgotten. It reminds Zane of a different time, a different life. One he willingly abandoned.

FL4K watches a moment, then turns to the Operative. “You say that as if you expect it to happen soon.”

“Oh, no. No, I don’t.” Chuckling, Zane pats the robot on the back, sending up a poof of dust. “And for their sake? I hope it never does.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end! Thanks to everyone for the kudos and comments along the way. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

_ECHO Log 930.L16 [The Calypso Twins]**  
**_

_**Tyreen:** Hey, Vault Thieves! I know, I know… You’re just SO disappointed we weren’t there to give you a proper welcome. But! That’s ‘cause we’ve been suuuuuper busy planning this BIG surprise!_

_**Troy:** SO BIG._

_**Tyreen:** The BIGGEST… I wanna tell ‘em. We should tell ‘em. Tell ‘em Troy!_

_**Troy:** By now, you’ve probably tried to phone home a few times, only to realize a lot of your tech is fucked - _

_**Tyreen:** \- like, really, REALLY fucked -_

_**Troy:** And that’s ‘cause we’ve installed a localized EMP beneath the Center that emits a low frequency signal every two minutes!_

_**Tyreen:** Yyyyep! It messes with aaaaall that fancy tech you’ve got! Including your new Siren gismo. What was it called again? A Dampener? Yeah, we knew all about that. _

_[Tyreen laughs]_

_**Tyreen:** Sooo, SURPRISE! Man, I wish I could see the look on your stupid faces right now. I betchya didn’t see this one coming!_

_**Troy:** Hmm, I wonder what else they won’t see coming?_

_**Tyreen:** I don’t know, but I’m ready to find out!_

Around her, Amara feels the air shift and swell with the energy of an impending Phasewalk. There’s just enough time to yell _stand back!_ and then the sky is awash with bright, blinding light. Tyreen’s small silhouette is visible first, followed by Troy’s taller, leaner variant. When the pair fully appear in front of the gathered Vault Hunters, Zane and FL4K raise their weapons, while Amara wills herself to patience. A little closer, if they would come a little closer… But they stop out of reach.

Smirking, Tyreen wags her finger. “You know, Troy and I, we had a bet going to see how long it would take you dumb-dumbs to figure it all out. I said you’d get it within twenty minutes - ”

Her brother interrupts. “And I told Ty she was waaaay off; it’d be more like twenty_ hours_.”

“Well, turns out we were _both_ wrong, so kudos to the four of you! Oh, and _you two_ \- “ Tyreen points at Moze and Amara - “You’re just _precious!_ I’d say it’s gonna break my heart to drain your gal pal and turn her to ash… Buuuut, that’d be a lie!”

To her left, Amara can sense Moze’s seething animosity. The Gunner has yet to make a move, and Amara prays she remains inactive. So much is at stake, so much could go _wrong,_ and Amara is incapable of communicating any of it. The best she can do is hope the other three follow her lead.

If this is going to work, Amara needs to play along. “Enough, Tyreen! What do you want?” 

“Oh, you’re gonna love it. Trust me. Amara, you’ll _give me_ your powers, ‘cause if you don’t “ - she holds up a responder - “We’ll jack the EMP frequency so high it’ll fry your robot buddy. Then, we’ll kill your girlfriend, the old man, aaaaand take your powers anyway. ‘Kay?“

So, that’s their strategy? Fine. The Siren’s gambled on worse odds and won. Now, she must make sure the twins - 

“You scrawny ass motherfuckers, you’re not gonna lay a fucking_ finger_ on her! I won’t - “ But Moze is silenced by Amara’s touch. The pair make eye contact, Amara desperately attempting to telegraph her message:_ I’ll be alright.You have to trust me. _

Was she successful? She can’t be sure, but Moze stays quiet.

Amara’s attention turns back to the twins. Not that she expects to hear the truth, but she needs them to think their threats were effective. “I give up my Siren powers willingly, and you’ll let them go. Right?”

"Yep!” Troy lies through his shit eating grin. “God’s honor.“

She pauses just long enough. "Then I’ll do it.”

All three Vault Hunters immediately object, Zane loudest of all, but in order to maintain the ruse, Amara ignores them. She doesn’t look around, doesn’t address their concerns. Instead, she takes three steps towards the Calypsos and holds out her hand. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

Tyreen’s smile tells Amara everything she needs to know. “I figured you’d see things our way.”

The other two Sirens close the distance, and the instant Tyreen touches her, Amara_ feels _it. A sensation unlike she’s ever experienced, it’s as if her very essence is draining from her fingertips. For a brief, terrifying moment she has doubts. What if she’s made a mistake? What if this costs not only her life, but the lives of her friends? And what about Moze? Amara never said goodbye, never told her she loved her. She merely turned her back, brashly confident in her decision.

But then Amara remembers something; she remembers _rage._ She remembers the feeling that came with the discovery Moze was not only missing, but taken. Robbed of agency and used as bait, the Gunner became an unwilling pawn, a bargaining chip in the twins’ unholy quest for godhood. And Amara will be damned if she lets that happen to anyone ever again. 

Amara gives no warning. Yanking Tyreen forward, she socks her squarely in the nose, shattering the cartilage. Tyreen screams, clutches her face, thus releasing Amara and the responder from her grip. Blood pours over Tyreen’s lips and chin, and she falls to her knees, shrieking Troy’s name into the dirt. Disbelief slides to anger, and with a curse, Troy swings at Amara, but he’s too slow. She easily dodges, comes back from underneath with an uppercut to his jaw. He’s laid out cold when Mr. Chew rushes forward to retrieve the forgotten device. 

Shifting into Phasetrance, Amara’s ethereal arms unfold one by one. She vows to _crush_ the twins, pound them into the earth until they are nothing but dust and bones. How dare they threaten her? Threaten her friends, her _family_? 

How _dare_ they threaten her girl.

And right as she prepares to bring down all eight fists onto the heads of Troy and Tyreen Calypso, the pair vanish in a flash of light and fire. It takes her a moment to realize it, but once she does, Amara stands and roars her wrath into the empty sky. 

“Come back here and_ fight _you _cowards_!”

Sniveling, good for nothing, little worms! Of course they ran away! The minute they lose the advantage, they tuck tail and flee rather than stay and accept their - 

A familiar voice calls her name, pulling her from that pit of blind fury. Amara turns to see Moze, her beautiful, delicate features painted with kind concern. Reaching up, the Gunner tucks a stray bit of hair behind Amara’s ear and smiles softly.

“It’s OK, Tiger. They’re gone.”

Allowing the tension to drain from her chest and shoulders, Amara sighs. She could have lost everything, everyone, but she didn’t. And for that, she’s grateful. 

She returns the smile, leans down to kiss Moze on the forehead. “Let’s find Iron Bear and go home, yeah?”

From behind, Zane quips. “Aye. Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

But before the group can head through the main doors of the HBC, Mr. Chew horks once, twice, three times, expelling the saliva-soaked responder. As one, Zane, Amara and Moze issue sounds of disgust, while FL4K provides praise.

“Good boy.” They pat Mr. Chew on the head, then gather the partially digested device. “What shall I do with this?”

Panting and drooling, the skagg dances around FL4K’s feet. Which gives Moze an idea.

“Maybe he wants to play? ”

“Ah, yes. Go on. _Fetch!_” 

They chuck it. However, the toss is a little too enthusiastic, and the responder disappears past the edge of the bluff. Luckily, Mr. Chew knows better than to go over as well, and he returns, expectant.

Together, the four Vault Hunters stand in contemplative silence. Zane finally breaks it.

“Welp! Guess it’s time we got that boy a ball!”

No one disagrees.


End file.
